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Nox woke up to the feeling of his face being approximately three times its normal size.
His cheeks felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton balls - or maybe small rocks. Everything from his jaw to his temples throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that made him want to crawl back into unconsciousness and stay there for approximately seven to ten business days.
He groaned, trying to sit up, and immediately regretted it when the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his mouth.
"Morning, sunshine," Chase said from somewhere nearby, his voice disgustingly cheerful.
Nox cracked one eye open. Chase was sitting in the chair by the bed, looking far too awake and far too amused for - Buddy squinted at the clock - 9:47 AM.
"How're you feeling?" Chase asked, standing up and coming over to the bed.
Buddy tried to respond, but what came out was more like "Blrgh."
"That good, huh?" Chase grinned, reaching over to gently touch Buddy's cheek. "Your swelling's actually not that bad. I mean, you look like a chipmunk, but a cute chipmunk."
Buddy swatted his hand away weakly. "Hurtsh," he mumbled, then winced at how ridiculous he sounded. The gauze was gone, but his mouth felt weird and numb and too full all at once.
"I know, I'm sorry," Chase said, his expression softening. "I'll get you some painkillers. And probably an ice pack. You want some water first?"
Buddy nodded, then immediately regretted that too when it jostled his jaw.
Chase disappeared and came back with water and pills. Buddy struggled to sit up properly, and Chase had to help prop him up with pillows. The whole thing was humiliating.
"Can you swallow these okay?" Chase asked, holding out two pills.
Buddy took them, managing to get them down despite how weird his mouth felt. Everything tasted vaguely like blood and antiseptic.
"Okay, so," Chase said, sitting back down and pulling out his phone. "We need to talk about yesterday."
Buddy froze. "Whuh abou' yeshterday?" he asked, his lisp making the words come out mangled.
Chase's grin was absolutely evil. "Oh, you know. Just... everything."
And then he turned his phone around.
Buddy watched in growing horror as video-Buddy sobbed about the floor being sad and getting walked on all the time.
"No," Buddy said, reaching for the phone. "No, no, no-"
Chase pulled it away, laughing. "Oh, there's more."
The next video showed Buddy asking if Chase still loved him, tears streaming down his face, voice crackling with emotion.
"Delethe it," Buddy demanded, his face burning. Or at least, he thought it was burning. It was hard to tell with all the swelling.
"Absolutely not," Chase said, scrolling through his camera roll. "This is comedy gold. Oh, here's the one where you asked if you were pretty."
"CHASHE."
"And this one-" Chase was trying not to laugh now. "This one's my favorite. Listen."
Buddy heard his own voice, slurred and sincere: "You're not a rock whore or a human whore."
Buddy grabbed a pillow and shoved his face into it. "I'm never leaving thish bed," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm gonna shtay here until I die of mortifichation."
"You also proposed to me four times," Chase added helpfully. "Well, technically you asked Deacon if I could marry you, which I think is some kind of medieval permission thing—"
Buddy threw the pillow at him.
Chase caught it, still grinning. "And you forgot my name but called me your husband, which was actually really sweet-"
"I hate you."
"No you don't. You love me. You told me approximately seventeen times yesterday."
Buddy finally looked up from his remaining pillow, his eyes narrowed. "Did you shend thoshe to anyone?"
Chase's silence was damning.
"CHASHE!"
"Deacon sent them to me first!"
"Oh my GOD-"
"Who may have sent them to a few other people-"
Buddy made a noise that was half groan, half whimper, and fully pathetic. "I'm gonna die. I'm literally gonna die. They took out my teef and my dignity."
Chase finally took pity on him, setting his phone aside and climbing onto the bed. He was careful not to jostle Buddy as he settled beside him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You were just really cute."
"I wash not cute. I wash pathectic."
"You were cute and pathetic. Both can be true." Chase pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Buddy's head. "How's the pain? Scale of one to ten?"
Buddy considered. "Sheven? Maybe eight when I talk."
"Then maybe don't talk so much."
"You're the one ashking me queshions!"
Chase laughed, getting up to grab an ice pack from the freezer. He came back and helped Buddy position it against his jaw. "Here. This should help."
Buddy held the ice pack in place, closing his eyes. The cold felt good against the swelling, even if everything else felt terrible.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Buddy was almost dozing off again when Chase spoke.
"So... did you mean it?"
Buddy cracked one eye open. "Mean what?"
"The marriage thing."
Buddy's face went hot again. He couldn't even blame the swelling this time. "I wash high."
"I know. But did you mean it?"
"...Yesh," Buddy finally admitted, his voice small. "But you don't hafta- I know we're young and shtupid and-"
"For the record," Chase interrupted gently, "when you do propose for real - like, when you're sober and not high on anesthesia - I'm saying yes."
Buddy stared at him.
"Just so you know," Chase continued, his expression soft. "No pressure. I'm just saying. Whenever you're ready. Could be next year, could be in five years. But yeah. My answer's yes."
"Shtop," Buddy said, his voice cracking slightly. "Shtop making me emothal. I can't cry, it'll hurt my fashe."
Chase grinned. "Aw, you gonna cry?"
"I will kill you."
"You can barely sit up."
"I'll wait until I recover and then I'll kill you."
"Looking forward to it." Chase pressed another kiss to Buddy's hair. "You want some breakfast? I can make you a smoothie or something."
"What time ish it?"
"Almost ten."
Buddy groaned. "I shlept that long?"
"You were pretty out of it last night. You woke up a few times but you just went right back to sleep." Chase paused. "Well, except for the time you woke up crying because you had a nightmare about raisins."
"Oh my GOD."
"You kept saying 'they're old grapes' and sobbing."
"I'm breaking up wif you."
"No you're not."
"...No, I'm not," Buddy sighed. "But I'm thinking about it very hard."
Chase laughed and headed downstairs. Buddy could hear him moving around in the kitchen, the blender whirring to life. He adjusted his ice pack and tried not to think about how many people had probably seen those videos by now.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Buddy reached for it, squinting at the screen. There was a text from Deacon: "How's the patient?"
And below that, one from someone he didn't recognize: "LMFAOOO THE FLOOR BEING SAD IM CRYING"
Buddy groaned and turned his phone off.
Chase came back up with a smoothie - strawberry, from the look of it. "Okay, this is soft and cold and should be easy to drink. I didn't put any seeds in it or anything that could get stuck."
Buddy took it carefully, managing to get the straw between his lips. The first sip was heaven. Cold and sweet and it didn't hurt to drink.
"Good?" Chase asked.
Buddy nodded, taking another sip.
"I also got your pain meds refilled," Chase continued, sitting back down. "You're supposed to take them every six hours. And we need to keep doing the salt water rinses, but not until this afternoon."
"You're taking thish very sherioushly," Buddy observed.
"Well, yeah. You're my..." Chase paused, grinning. "What did you call me yesterday? Your husband?"
Buddy choked on his smoothie.
"Easy, easy!" Chase patted his back gently. "Don't die on me now."
"Too late," Buddy wheezed. "Already dead. Dead from embarasshment."
There was a knock on the door downstairs, and Chase went to answer it. Buddy heard voices - Chase and Deacon - and then footsteps coming back up.
"No," Buddy said immediately when he saw Deacon's face. "No vichitors."
"I'm not a visitor, I live here," Deacon said, leaning against the doorframe. "How're you feeling, man?"
"Like I got punchd in the fashe four timesh."
"That's pretty accurate, actually." Deacon pulled out his phone. "So, I may have compiled a greatest hits video-"
"Deacon."
"-and it's currently sitting at about four thousand views on my private account—"
"FOUR THOUSHAND?!"
"-but the good news is that everyone thinks you're adorable."
Buddy shoved his face back into his pillow. "I hate both of you sho much," he said, his voice muffled.
"Aw, no you don't," Deacon said. "You love us. You said so. Multiple times."
"I wash high."
"Doesn't make it less true."
Chase sat back down on the bed, rubbing Buddy's back gently. "Okay, okay, we'll stop teasing. Probably. Maybe."
"Definitely not," Deacon said cheerfully. "Oh, by the way-" He pulled something up on his phone. "Someone made a compilation of just the parts where you're crying and set it to sad music. It's got two thousand views."
Buddy made a noise that might have been a scream if his face didn't hurt so much.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Deacon laughed. "Nobody made a compilation. Yet."
"You're the worsht."
"Sure, Buddy." Deacon pocketed his phone. "I'm making lunch in a bit if you want anything soft. We've got soup, mashed potatoes, ice cream..."
"Millshake," Buddy mumbled.
"You got it." Deacon headed back downstairs.
Chase waited until he was gone, then gently turned Buddy over so he was facing him. "Hey. You doing okay? Like, actually?"
Buddy considered lying, then sighed. "My fashe hurtsh. And I'm embarashd. And I can't shtop thinking about all the shtupid things I shaid."
"For what it's worth, they weren't stupid. They were just... unfiltered."
"That'sh worshe."
"I don't know," Chase said thoughtfully. "I kind of liked getting to hear what you're thinking when you're not worried about saying the wrong thing."
"I ashked if you'd kissh me if I wash a rock."
"And I said yes. And I meant it."
Buddy stared at him. "You're inshane."
"Maybe." Chase smiled. "But I'm your insane person. Apparently we're married, according to you."
"I'm never doing drugsh again."
"They were prescription drugs for a medical procedure-"
"Shtill."
Chase laughed, then carefully pulled Buddy closer. "Come on. Let's watch something dumb until your next round of painkillers kicks in."
They ended up watching some mindless sitcom that didn't require much attention. Buddy dozed on and off, waking up occasionally to find Chase still there, his hand running through Buddy's hair or rubbing his back.
Around noon, Deacon brought up a chocolate milkshake and some soup. Buddy managed most of the milkshake and a few spoonfuls of soup before his jaw started hurting too much to continue.
"Thish shucksh," he said, putting the spoon down.
"I know," Chase said sympathetically. "Just a few more days and you'll be back to normal."
"A few more daysh?!"
"The swelling should go down pretty quickly. By tomorrow you'll probably look a lot better."
Buddy groaned, flopping back against the pillows. His phone buzzed again - he'd turned it back on to check the time - and he regretted it immediately.
Another text from an unknown number: "dude the turtle thing SENT me"
"Oh my god, what turtle thing?"
Chase suddenly looked very interested in the TV.
"Chashe. What turtle thing."
"...You may have insisted that I wasn't a turtle and cried about it."
"What."
"And then Deacon asked what sound turtles make and you said 'blah' and then I said 'blah' and you decided I was a turtle after all."
Buddy stared at him in horror. "No."
"Yes."
"That'sh... that'sh not even a thing. Turtlesh don't make shoundsh!"
"I know! That's what made it so funny!"
Buddy grabbed his pillow and screamed into it. Well, tried to scream. It came out more like a pained whimper because moving his jaw that much hurt.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Chase said, though he was clearly trying not to laugh. "Here, take your painkillers. It's been six hours."
Buddy took the pills, washing them down with the last of his milkshake. "I'm never gonna live thish down, am I?"
"Probably not," Chase admitted. "But hey, at least you'll be a legend."
"I don't wanna be a legend! I wanna be a normal pershon who didn't shob about the floor!"
"Too late. You're the floor sympathizer now. That's your legacy."
Buddy threw his pillow at Chase again. This time Chase didn't catch it; he just let it hit him in the face while he laughed.
"You're sho mean to me," Buddy mumbled, but there was no real heat in it.
"I'm the meanest," Chase agreed, tossing the pillow back. "The absolute worst. Which is why you proposed to me four times."
"Technically I ashked Freckles if you could marry me. That'sh different."
"Is it though?"
"Yesh! One ish ashking permisshion, one ish actually proposhing—"
"So when you actually propose, you won't need Deacon's permission?"
Buddy's face went red. "I- that'sh not- shtop twishing my wordsh!"
Chase grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to Buddy's forehead. "You're cute when you're flustered."
"I'm cute when I'm not flushterd too."
"That's true. You're always cute."
"...Okay, you can shtay."
"Oh, I can stay? In my own house?"
"Our houshe," Buddy corrected automatically, then paused. "Wait. When did I shtart thinking of it ash our houshe?"
Chase's expression went soft. "I don't know, but I like it."
They settled back into comfortable silence, the TV playing in the background. Buddy felt the painkillers starting to kick in, everything getting a little fuzzy around the edges. Not as intense as yesterday - thank god - but enough to take the edge off.
"Hey Chashe?" he said after a while.
"Yeah?"
"I'm shorry I wash sho weird yeshterday."
"You don't have to apologize for being high on anesthesia."
"Shtill. I probably made you uncomfortable or-"
"Buddy." Chase turned to look at him properly. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. You were vulnerable and honest and yeah, kind of hilarious, but I loved every second of it. Well, except the parts where you were crying. Those made me sad."
"Even when I ashked about the rocksh?"
"Especially when you asked about the rocks. That was incredible."
Buddy snorted, then winced when it hurt his face. "Okay. Okay, but if I shtart shaying weird shtuff again becaushe of the painkillersh-"
"I'll only record the really good parts."
"Chashe!"
"I'm kidding! Probably."
Buddy sighed, but he was smiling. "You're the worsht."
"Second worst. Deacon's posting the videos."
"Fair."
Another buzz from his phone. Buddy looked at it reluctantly.
This time it was from someone he actually knew - one of his classmates from one of his college courses. "Dude I saw the video. 'The naked man fears no pickpocket'???? Where did that even come from???"
"Oh my god, I shaid that out loud!?"
Chase was trying very hard not to laugh. "You did. Very solemnly. Like you were imparting ancient wisdom."
"What doesh that even mean!?"
"I have no idea, but Deacon said it sounded like something written on a bathroom stall in a bar."
"He'sh right." Buddy put his phone face-down on the nightstand. "That'sh it. I'm deleting all sochial media. Changing my name. Moving to Canada."
"Can I come?"
"...Yesh."
"Cool."
They went back to watching TV. Buddy dozed off again around two, waking up to find Chase gone and a note on the nightstand: "Went to get more ice cream. Back soon. Love you (and yes I'm still a turtle apparently)."
Buddy snorted, carefully getting up to go to the bathroom. His face in the mirror was... not great. His cheeks were definitely swollen, making him look like he was storing food for winter. There was some bruising along his jawline, and his lips were dry and cracked.
He looked like he'd been in a fight and lost.
"Adorable," he muttered to his reflection. "Shure."
He did the salt water rinse that Chase had set out for him - which hurt like hell but supposedly helped with healing - and shuffled back to bed.
Chase came back about twenty minutes later with three different kinds of ice cream and a bag of other soft foods.
"I got you pudding, Jell-O, more soup, applesauce, and-" He pulled out a container with a flourish. "-fancy gelato from that Italian place you like."
"You went all the way acrosh town?"
"It's your favorite," Chase said with a shrug. "And you're injured. It's basically the law that I have to spoil you."
"Pretty shure that'sh not a law."
"Well, it should be."
Buddy felt something warm and fond settle in his chest. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Chase started putting things away. "Oh, also, I may have threatened Deacon with bodily harm if he posts any more videos."
"Did it work?"
"No, but I felt better."
Buddy laughed, then winced. "Ow. Don't make me laugh, it hurtsh."
"Sorry, sorry." Chase came back over, settling on the bed next to him. "How's the pain now?"
"Better. Shtill there, but better."
"Good." Chase pulled out his phone. "So, I was thinking-"
"If you shay you made a shupercut-"
"—we should watch the videos together."
Buddy stared at him. "Are you inshane?"
"Hear me out! You've only seen bits and pieces. And I think if you watch the whole thing, you'll realize it's not as bad as you think."
"It'sh worshe than I think!"
"Just... give it a try? And if you really hate it, I'll delete them. I promise."
Buddy narrowed his eyes. "You promishe?"
"I promise."
"...Fine. But I reserve the right to shtop watching at any time."
"Deal."
Chase pulled up the first video, recorded on Deacon's phone, and hit play.
Buddy watched himself, loopy and slurring, crying about the floor being sad. And yeah, it was embarrassing. But Chase was right—it was also kind of funny. In a mortifying way.
"You're not a real turtle," video-Buddy sobbed.
Present-Buddy groaned. "I can't believe I shaid that."
"Just wait," Chase said, grinning.
"Blah," video-Buddy said in response to Deacon's question about turtle sounds.
"Blah," video-Chase repeated.
"Oh, you are a turtle?"
Present-Buddy covered his face with his hands. "Kill me now."
But then the next video played, and it was the one where he'd asked if Chase still loved him. His voice was so small and vulnerable, tears streaming down his face.
"Do you still love me?"
"Yes, I love you!"
"Are you sure you still love me?"
"Yes, Buddy, I'm sure!"
Buddy felt his throat tighten. "I... I really shounded like that?"
"Yeah," Chase said softly. "You were really worried I didn't love you anymore."
"That'sh... that'sh shtupid. Why would I think that?"
"Anesthesia makes people emotional. You weren't thinking clearly."
They watched the rest - the marriage proposals, the rock question, the "rock whore" comment that made present-Buddy want to die all over again.
But there were also moments he didn't remember. Chase being so patient and gentle, reassuring him over and over. The way Chase had kissed his forehead and wiped his tears and held his hand.
"You were really nishe to me," Buddy said quietly.
"Of course I was. You were scared and hurting and high as a kite. What else would I be?"
"I don't know. Annoyed? Tired?"
"Buddy." Chase turned to face him properly. "I will never be annoyed at you for needing me. Okay? Even when you're being ridiculous and asking if I'd kiss you as a rock."
"And you'd really kissh me if I wash a rock?"
"If I knew it was you? Absolutely. I'd kiss that rock every day."
Buddy felt his eyes getting wet. "Shtop. I shaid no crying."
"Then stop being so lovable."
"That'sh not how that worksh."
Chase smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Buddy's lips - carefully, so it wouldn't hurt. "I love you. High, sober, swollen, normal, rock, human, whatever. Okay?"
"...Okay," Buddy whispered. "I love you too."
"I know. You told me seventeen times yesterday."
"I'll tell you eighteen timesh today to make up for it."
"I'm counting."
They spent the rest of the afternoon watching dumb movies and eating ice cream (well, Buddy ate ice cream; Chase ate actual food). Deacon checked in periodically, each time with a new comment about the videos that made Buddy want to sink into the floor.
By evening, Buddy's pain had dulled to a manageable ache. The swelling was still there, but he could talk a little easier, his lisp not quite as pronounced.
"Okay," he said, settling against Chase's side. "I have a seriush queshtion."
"Shoot."
"Are you actually going to delete the videosh?"
Chase was quiet for a moment. "Do you really want me to?"
Buddy thought about it. The videos were embarrassing, yeah. But they were also... kind of sweet? In a weird way? They showed Chase taking care of him, being patient and loving even when Buddy was being absolutely ridiculous.
"...No," he finally said. "You can keep them. But if you post them publicly, I'm breaking up with you for real."
"Deal." Chase pressed a kiss to his hair. "For the record, I was always going to keep them private. They're just for us."
"And Deacon."
"And Deacon," Chase agreed. "But he promised to keep them on a private account."
"Four thousand viewsh on a private account?"
"...He has a lot of friends."
"Shure."
They fell into comfortable silence, the TV playing something neither of them was really watching. Buddy felt himself starting to doze off again, warm and comfortable and safe.
"Hey, Buddy?" Chase said softly.
"Mm?"
"I meant it. About saying yes. Whenever you're ready."
Buddy smiled, not opening his eyes. "I know. But we have time."
"All the time in the world."
"...Until one of ush turnsh into a rock."
Chase's laugh was the last thing Buddy heard before he fell asleep, warm and loved and still slightly mortified but overall pretty okay with how things had turned out.
Even if he did look like a chipmunk and had accidentally proposed to his boyfriend four times while high on anesthesia.
At least Chase had said yes.